A Winter's Tale
by Elizabeth A. Savard
Summary: Gemma and Kartik find a place where they can be alone and talk to each other. Soon they discover their real feelings for one another and get caught up in the moment.


Gemma looked across the table at the man sitting in front of her. His dark hands were folded and sat idly on the weather worn table. She knew he was waiting for her to answer him, but she didn't really have an answer to give him.

"Gemma?" he asked, looking at her suspiciously. "Gemma, are you listening?"

"Yes. I am truly sorry, it's just that I don't know where the temple is, Kartik." He looked at her with his deep dark eyes and smiled. Now Gemma was confused, why was he smiling at me? Did I say something stupid? She wondered nervously.

"It's alright," he said, in answer to her confused expression. "Let's just forget about the Order, and the Rakshana, and the Temple. Let's just, talk." This didn't curb Gemma's confusion at all. She wondered what exactly he wanted to talk to her about. She stared at him and took in every single feature of his body. She loved his dark skin and eyes, his black hair and the curls it made on the back of his head, his big strong hands and arms, his lean legs, and his smiling face. She loved it when he smiled at her. Her face would get hot and her cheeks would flush with excitement, this just wasn't a feeling that Simon Middleton brought out in her. He was handsome and proper, but Kartik was rugged and dangerous. He was Indian. The scent of him made her long for the sweet smells of India.

"And what shall we talk about, Mr. Kartik?"

"Oh…" she caught him there. What did he want to talk about? Nothing really, he just knew every second that he wasn't with her was a second wasted. He noticed that she too was now smiling back at him.

"Kartik, shall we go for a walk?" He didn't answer her; rather he grabbed his coat from the hook above the table and stood up. Gemma followed his lead, wrapping her coat around her and preparing for the chilly air. Kartik reached out to take her hand and led her from the tiny room. They walked through a path until they came to the familiar woods outside of Spence. Gemma followed Kartik until they reached the tiny pond. There he took his coat and laid it upon the ground. Gemma smiled and sat down gracefully. Kartik took a deep breath before plopping down beside her.

"Gemma, I have to tell you something…" he began. He was thinking more and more about the Rakshana, and his role in it. He wasn't sure that he could follow through, and he wanted Gemma to know why. "It's about the Rakshana."

"Kartik, you said we will not discuss the Rakshana, or the Order, or the Temple!" she spat out playfully. Although a little annoyed, Kartik felt relieved, he was dreading telling her what he had to do.

"Alright." Kartik watched Gemma watch the pond. The water was almost completely glazed over now with ice. He realized how cold it was when tiny snowflakes began to fall from the sky. Then he noticed that Gemma was shivering quietly next to him.

"Are you cold Miss Doyle?" he asked. She nodded fervently, looking deep into those dark brown eyes of his. Kartik steadied himself, then reached out to Gemma, taking her in his arms. He wrapped his strong arm around her tiny waist until she was close to him. He wasn't sure if she would be glad of his touch or stand up cursing, she was unpredictable like that. But to his surprise Gemma leaned into him, pressing her cold body against his warm coat. Their eyes met, Gemma looked into his dark eyes until she could no longer, then she looked away modestly. The look in his eyes was intense and meaningful, like no look she had ever seen a man give to her. She was both frightened and excited by it. His face was now so close to hers that she could feel his cool breath upon her cheek. He was still staring at her, and she felt her eyes close uncontrollably as his face drew near. She felt his soft lips against her neck. His hand found it's way into her auburn hair as his lips moved up her neck and towards her own lips. His breath felt warm against her face, like the remains of a fire on a cool night. Gemma longed for the touch of his lips again, and as if he could read her thoughts it happened. She was kissing him, there lips pressed tightly together. Kartik kissed her softly, then more passionately. In her most shameful dreams Gemma had never imagined anything like this. She could not recall being happier in her life. Surely this is what love felt like. But did she love Kartik? An Indian? She wasn't supposed to; at least she had been brought up to see Indian's as subservient. Perhaps that was wrong, perhaps this really was what love felt like.


End file.
